


hm. cursed

by breadboi



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Tries, Crack, DPD adopts Connor, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff and Crack, Hank Being Awesome, Meme, Memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-26 10:58:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadboi/pseuds/breadboi
Summary: Connor is a deviant. No one knows that. He does, however, have a strong online presence, and a very large following on his several meme accounts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not sure why i decided to post this, but i found it in my drafts and finished it for shits and giggles. might continue? might flesh out into a story? i dunno. comment if you like :)

Connor could say that he hide the fact he was a deviant pretty well. No one in the precinct suspected a thing.

Well, they probably did. He got glances every now and then when he would do something or say something a little too alive-sounding. But seriously, what’s a background character going to do? Call Cyberlife? Connor doubted they would be taken seriously.

But, in all honesty, being one month old and having the whole internet at your disposal led to some dumb things. He enjoyed every second of it.

Connor bought a phone, one of the ones without that fancy pure glass screen, solely to make Tik Tok videos. Memes, if you will. 

To himself, and no other creature that ever existed, he would admit he considered himself a bit meme-savvy.

“Connor,” Hank said, leaning over his terminal.

Connor schooled his expression into neutrality and pretended like he hadn’t been watching a Skyrim play through that destroyed the game with mods.

He struggled not to laugh out loud usually and most people ignored the facial acrobatics he went through if he wasn’t talking directly to them.

“Yes?”

“The fuck you need a phone for.”

He left his phone on the table. Its incriminating screen was thankfully blank. He panicked.

“Uh,” he said, smartly. Cyberlife’s most intelligent android his ass. “Pictures.”

Lieutenant leaned back a bit and raised his eyebrows suspiciously. Shit.

“Can’t you take pictures with your fucking fancy computer brain or something?”

“No,” Connor lied.

“You literally took all the forensics pictures at the last crime scene.”

Well, Connor liked to think no one suspected a thing. Hank, on the other hand, obviously did.

Reed did too, but he was loud about his conspiracies and obnoxious and no one really cared what he had to say.

Connor was also ready to crawl into a hole and die. He must have pulled some kind of expression because the Lieutenant immediately backed off.

“Alright, look, I won’t ask you anything- but-“

Then he lunged forward, reaching out to grab his phone.

Connor remembered he had a video saved of himself singing that god awful hit or miss song up last. He also had no password. If Hank opened his phone, the horrible music and the video of him dancing to that AWFUL song would blast, probably full volume, throughout the bullpen. 

Being an android, and also superior to humans, Connor saw this outcome far before it occurred. So he grabbed the phone and kicked his chair so it rolled backwards into the desk behind it.

Officer Collin’s looked up from his computer in surprise.

“Connor,” Hank said threateningly. 

“My auditory processing units seem to be malfunctioning. Are you telling me to run outside at full speed?”

“Wha- no, fucking hell- wait! Get back here!”

* * *

 

And so started the mystery behind Connor’s time online began and very quickly involved the entire police force. Connor turned his Instagram meme page to private out of anxiety that one of them would request to follow.

Unfortunately, Reed was the first to find a digital footprint.

“Hey Connor,” he said with his ugly voice, using his ugly face, and shoved his phone into Connor’s face using his ugly hands. “The fuck is this?” A ugly finger hit the play button.

It was a video of him from Youtube, with him falling off the second story of an abandoned building and remaking the iconic ‘I’m gay’ dude in the green screen suit vine.

Hank leaned over, hearing Connor’s voice from the speakers. Together, the three of them watched Connor attempt to slav squat properly, breakdance fairly well, and fall off a stairwell. The video ended.

Good times. North had filmed that nearby Jericho. But of course, Connor didn’t know any other deviants, and didn’t know Jericho, and also wasn’t a deviant. To the police’s knowledge.

It’ll buff.

“I don’t know who that is.” Connor lied.

Reed’s whole face blew up. “The fuck are you talking about! That’s you!”

Hank watched impassively. 

“I scanned the face, and I can assure you that is a human who looks like me. I may have been based on this human’s profile.” Another lie, since Connor was made specifically not to look like anyone to avoid copywriter claims.

“Its got an LED!”

“Dedicated cosplayer. If you’ll excuse me-“ Connor gestured to his terminal, which had Terrira on half the screen, and Minecraft on the other. “I have work to do.”

* * *

 

Hank got the phone when Connor stepped into a meeting with Fowler. The whole precinct crowded around the desk as Hank opened it with utmost care. 

It looked relatively normal if it was for a human. The background was Connor, posing with a dog. 

“Look at his messages,” said someone, and Hank opened to messages.

There was a group chat named DILDO SQUAD with 11 unread messages, a message from JESUS and three messages from SOUTHWESTEAST.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hank said, trying not to laugh his ass off. He clicked the group chat. 

The last message was simply a photo, from SOUTHWESTEAST. It was of that fucking cat that was laying on the stairs weird so it looked like it had no back legs, photoshopped to have beefy arms. Then badly edited once more to wear that coat Connor always wears and to say ‘My name is Connor. Mom said it's my turn to be the android sent by Cyberlife.’

Someone nearly died in the background, wheezing so hard.

He scrolled up more. JESUS was talking about trying to eat hot sauce and Hippie was talking about thinking that the world ended earlier. There were homemade memes. There was also a video.

JESUS: connor I found the video of u in that wallmart bro

Attachment: 1 Video.

Hank played it. Connor was in a cart, holding a huge foam sword, and across from him was a blonde android who was recognized as a common garden-housekeeping android. He also had a foam sword, and both of them had two unfamiliar androids holding onto the carts.

“All women are queens!” Hollered Conner, standing up in the cart. The female android behind him cheered.

“If she breathes!” Screamed the other one, standing up as well. “She’s a THOT!” 

Both androids launched the carts at each other at full speed. Predictably, they both crashed into each other and were flung into opposite directions.

The video ended.

Connor: bro thanks i now owe u a life debt

Blondie Boi: oh bet

JESUS: i mean its not that deep bro but i have so many dumb videos youll need to contact cyberlife for more bodies to use lmafo

Connor: WEIRD FLEX BUT O K A Y

“What does any of this mean,” Detective Hale whispered. Hank did not know how to answer.

“Shits funny at least.”

He clicked out of the message app. A notification for Tik Tok came up.

“My niece has one of those!” Exclaimed one of the older detectives. She reached over and clicked it.

Immediately a video of Connor posing like he was a video game character with like, twelve nerf guns strapped to his body came up. On a tiny piece of paper, it said in perfect Cyberlife Sans: POLICE THOT

He did a little dance, then the video switched to another one.

There were so many videos of him dramatically saluting police and army videos. He wore a police uniform in one of his own and someone added to it, saluting him. Hank was terrified.

There was a lot of T-posing with other androids. There was a lot of Hit Or Miss. I bet they never miss, huh.

Halfway through another one with him badly dancing, Connor came out of the office. He was briefed on a very serious murder, suspected to be done by three deviants that were owned by a family. 

He heard, from his phone, the cursed song. You got a boyfriend I bet he doesn’t kiss ya. (Mwah!)

Like a demon summoned from literal hell, like an anime character with that evil eye glint, like the android sent from Cyberlife, Connor snuck up behind them.

Whatever. Panic about them knowing his deviancy could set in later. Reed was the only one who saw him.

He immediately T-posed, to assert is dominance. Reed’s sudden sputtering and angry noises attracted everyone else to turn around, so he dropped his arms.

“Hello,” he said. “Please give me my phone back.”

“The fuck is going on?” Fowler shouted from his office.

Connor made eye contact. Tried to send a message with his eyes only. Please don’t rat me out. Pretty please.

No one moved. Well.

“Hit or miss. I guess they never miss, huh? You got a boyfriend, I bet he doesn’t kiss ya!” He whispered, so Fowler wouldn't hear, then pointed to Hank, who finished with the kissy noise.

“He’s gunna find another girl and he won't miss ya, he’s gunna skrt and hit that dab like Wiz Kalifa!”

This was all said with his normal, pretty flat voice, but that was usually a comedy advantage for Connor.

Reed shouted: “He’s a deviant!” at the same time Detective Martinez said: “Hank’s showing us this funny video, it’s nothing.”

Fowler massaged his head. Everyone glared at Detective Reed, for some reason.

“Stop accusing Connor of shit all the time!” Said one of them.

“Yeah, back off, Reed.”

“Detective Reed, my office, now.”

“Bu- I – pho-“

“Now, or hand in your badge.”

Dramatic! Connor always had taste for a little drama.

After the walls fogged up and dimmed for privacy he turned around to the crowd of skilled detectives.

“Thank you,” he breathed, letting his head drop into his heads. “Holy shit that was terrifying.”

“Yeah, we are definitely going to have a long conversation about what this-“ Hank waved the phone around. “-all means, but for right now your going to sit your ass down and show us the funniest ones.”

Gladly. He pulled up a video of him filming with the phone in his mouth and trying to wash his hands at the same time and tried very hard not to think about the fact that A) Everyone knew he was deviant and B) Despite being in the middle of a revolution, only Reed gave half a shit.

“Y’all should follow my Instagram and Twitter.” He said halfway through his Tik Tok page. “Shit’s way funnier.”

 

 


	2. the boys go to target to get meme supplies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't as funny as the first one. bear with me yall, the next one is only memes. and meme making. and jericrew will be featured in chap 3

Hank demanded Connor move in with him about four hours after the whole phone incident. Connor had to physically resist from making a ‘buy me dinner first at least!’ joke, because Hank made one first and threatened to punch Connor if he stole his joke. So, Connor remained mostly silent on the subject.

Under the guise of normal coworkers hanging out at a relatively empty sports bar, and with Connor literally under a disguise of a thick beanie, he was forced to come clean to a crew of about 12 different incredibly intelligent detectives, whose current job would stipulate that they turn him in. If there was one good police officer in the crowd, he would be dead before he could announce his want to legally change his name to Coolguy Bigdick. 

He had no dick. It was for the irony. 

Detective Chen simply ordered several rounds of vodka for the table, threw back a few and said, “Sure, whatever, your sentient and act like a 12-year-old boy. Sorry for being a piece of-“ she paused, “Can I swear ‘round you?”

Connor nodded. He was almost a month and a half old, so basically an adult.

“Yeah, cool, sorry for how much of a bitch I was.”

And that’s sort of how the rest of the evening went. No harsh questions. Just apologies and dumb stories that Connor finally got to share.

Hank seemed especially surprised whenever Connor would talk about especially funny goof he did, Hank would laugh so loud it felt like the whole table shook. It made Connor smile, and after working so hard to smash his emotions under a massive hammer and jam it into a tiny bottle it felt nice to just grin.

“And so there I was: we were missing half the pie, that lady was having a seizure on the floor, I’m like THIS close to being halfway out the window, when this lady busts open the door, yells at us to get out of her house! Turns out, we broke into a super-rich person's house to have this party.”

The table laughed that loud, drunk laugh and Connor couldn’t help the bubble of pride that popped up. He finally did it. He was accepted by his co-workers.

Well. Reed and Fowler were another story.

Reed was ugly though, and Fowler probably would have to report him. So, no real loss.

Hank seemed to suddenly think about something, which was a really rare and scary occasion, because he didn’t join laughing. When the rest of the group split off into side conversations, along with two detectives leaving to flirt with other girls at the bar, he turned to Connor.

Hank looked confused, his eyebrows scrunched together. Maybe he was a little mad? Connor was really bad a reading expressions without scanning the person.

“Hey, since you’ve been deviant this whole time, where’s do you live?”

Connor sighed and glanced to the side.

“Actually, Cyberlife is pretty shitty at detecting deviants- so long as the data they get seems about right. I mess with my reports on my day to day life, but by the end of the day they still expect me to go to a stupid closet to charge.”

He pulled a face at the idea of going there tonight and stirred the whiskey that was ordered for him by an uber drunk coworker. Connor couldn’t actually drink it, but deviancy lead to poor impulse control, so he was barely restraining himself from giving himself severe blood poisoning.

“It's this tiny dumb ass nook that’s crammed with other prototype androids. It's like hell. But!” He shrugged, trying to play it to not cause too much concern. “What can ya do, ya know?”

Hank looked horrified. Connor backtracker. “I just sleep there, and have to do some reports and stuff there, it's really not too bad!” 

Hank tilted his head back and a good portion of his beer disappeared. 

As Hank turned back to his thankfully less potent alcohol, Connor assumed the conversation was over, so he turned forward so his attention could return to the TV screen in front of him. Some college basketball game was playing, which wasn’t really interesting, but it was mindless entertainment until someone else dragged him into a conversation.

Hank snatched Connor’s whiskey and chugged it. Connor gave him the most hopeless, disappointed look he could manage. 

What happened to less alcohol? The man was already pretty tipsy. Connor was ready to drag him into another cold ass shower if maybe punishment would curb the bad habit. 

Connor immediately thought about a video of spraying a cat on the face with water to stop bad behaviors. Maybe the same technique applied to all mammals. 

Humans… were mammals. He added spray bottle to his grocery list, mentally. 

Hank didn’t seem to either notice Connor’s desperation at his alcoholic tendencies, or care. Instead, he opened his mouth and said, “Think you can make an excuse to live with me?”

This kind of broke Connor.

See, little old Connor, since turning deviant, had a lot of daydreams. He had thought about the Lieutenant actually helping him, and since Connor slowly realized he had come to see the man as a father-like figure, the daydreams of human protection became more and more complex. He had thought of excuses to feed Cyberlife already. Preventing suicide. Getting to know better. Adapting to humans. 

But! Hank was obviously drunk. Connor would feel bad about taking advantage of his hospitality. He probably was just super happy that Connor was a real boy that he was throwing ideas around for no reason.

Unfortunately, he had become a lot more lax on his normally tight expression control, and Hank busted out laughing. “You look like you just won the lottery, kid! Damn, you can sleep in the guest room, spend as much time as you need there. Shit, I ‘dunno if I’ve ever seen you so happy!”

Connor felt embarrassment flare up and wanted to die, right then and there. Revolution and fight for the right to life be damned, he could die right now with no regrets. His face immediately turned blue. Hank laughed harder, gathering the attention of the other detectives, who all proceeded to coo and laugh at the fact that deviants blush blue.

“That’s so cute, oh my god, you look like some anime character!”

“Or like you’re magic- or an alien!”

Connor resisted the urge to bury his face into his hands. “It makes sense, like physically speaking, you guys. Seriously, it's not a big deal!”

“You sound like a disgruntled teenager!” 

Connor felt every bit of a disgruntled teenager being embarrassed by a bunch of adults. He was just about ready to challenge the detectives to a battle to the death by the time Hank finally got them to all stop fawning over his basic biology.

“Listen, make your fancy report to Cyberlife, I’ll order a cab for us to go home.”

Connor hesitated. “Are you sure…?”

“Hell yeah, booooooooyyyyy!”

He was definitely drunk.

But. What harm could just a night of sleeping over at a friends house do? Maybe in the morning, he would forget about asking Connor to move in, or Connor could politely say that he didn’t have to and give Hank a chance to back out. 

He thought about going to sleep in Cyberlife, basically leaning on another android that was designed for prototypes in farming. She was always covered in manure and it took hours to get out of his clothes every morning at the dry cleaners.

Eh. Fuck it.

“Sure thing, Lieutenant.”

* * *

 

Sender: Connor

Recipient: Cyberlife, Amanda

Subject: New Stasis Arrangement

Body: Lieutenant Anderson and I have agreed that, in an effort to give us more time out of working hours, it would be beneficial if I did not have to return to Cyberlife every night to charge. He claims he is struck by inspiration in the middle of the night more often than not, and offered for me to charge in the corner of his living room. This arrangement would also allow me to gather more data on Anderson to properly incorporate likable features into my social programming.

Thank you for your consideration.

RK800

And since Amanda was long since dead, Connor hacked into her old email and replied with a simple:

Agreeable. We will send out a charger to be at Anderson’s door in the next hour via drone.

Cyberlife basically only had to read these messages to make sure neither went rogue. Which was kind of a weak defense system, considering whoever read them never really cared to reply, so Connor didn’t wait for the actual company to reply before hacking their shipping system.

Once, Connor forwarded the whole script to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song to Cyberlife, and not a single fuck was given. That was probably the biggest sign of deviancy and they didn’t even care. Whatever! He was a little salty over the fact that the big bad didn’t read his emails, but whatever. 

Someone else would have their charger be a day or two later than expected, but its whatever. Fuck em, fuck capitalism. Fuck Cyberlife.

And then he hacked into an old dudes bank account who worked at Cyberlife and had an ugly mustache and made him pay for it. Fuck mustaches. You either could go all out, full fucking bearded, or babyface it. No in between, no sire says Connor. Mustaches are the devil's work. 

By the time Connor was finished with his report, Hank had ordered a taxi and basically passed out in the seat to his right. Connor awkwardly tried to support his partner’s head, but he ended up falling forward and leaning against the driver's seat, which was thankfully empty.

* * *

 

Hank woke up at the crack of fucking dawn and forced Connor to wear some human clothes, then dragged them both to his car before it even hit 8 am. Thank god it was Saturday because Connor was a bit worried about the psyche of his partner. He didn’t think he had ever woke up so early.

Also, he was having a really nice dream about owning a lightsaber and throwing it right at Reed. Like. Right at him. Threw the head. And android biology be damned, despite not truly having a reason too, Connor was fucking tired. He wanted to go back to his charger and go straight to bed. 

“Lieutenant…?” Connor tried to talk to him.

Hank raised a finger. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my morning coffee.” 

Connor never wanted to strangle someone as much as he did in that moment. 

“Where are we going?”

“Coffee first, it's too damn early.”

“Why did you wake us up so early if you wanted to sleep in?” Connor couldn’t help but sound a bit frustrated. Hank was being unreasonable and Connor hated it when someone withheld information. 

Hank laughed at him, then blasted some emo ass rock band. Connor hated emo music, ever since he went through a hardcore emo phase about a week ago.

Being a deviant was sort of like speed running through different phases humans go through. Connor, being a month old adult, tried to speed run full speed.

* * *

 

Hank brought them to Target. The store was almost empty and Hank speed walked into a Starbucks that acted as a side store to grab what looked like just pure black coffee. Although Connor couldn’t drink, he could sample things, and he did try and sample coffee before. It was gross.

Connor felt a little awkward, all his android identifiers being covered up while he wore the clothes he normally wore to Jericho. 

Hank didn’t seem to notice and he gestured to the massive store.

“Get whatever you want!” He cheered, then chugged the boiling hot coffee.

To Hank’s credit, the man didn’t even flinch, but Connor was an android and knew that he severely burned his tongue. He stifled a laugh.

“Anything I want…?” Connor ventured, peering further back at the massive holiday section. 

“Uh… limit of ten items. Try to not bankrupt me.” 

Connor grinned the biggest, shit eating grin he could manage. “Okay. Meet me in the Christmas section in thirty minutes.”

Hank blinked. “Wait, what?” But Connor had already grabbed a cart and took a running jump, riding it on the back further into the store. 

Hank glanced down at his phone as it pinged, and a grocery list Connor had compiled from spending the night at his house was pulled up on his phone. He watched in amusement as the note kept writing itself, adding: TREATS FOR SUMO!! HES A GOOD BOY!!!

Well. He needed some fresh food anyways, and with Connor living with him more he would probably need some Thirium. He added that to the well-written list and pulled out another cart.

* * *

 

True to his word, Connor was found ooing and awing over different ornaments. His cart looked suspiciously full.

“Connor…” Hank said, peering into his cart. “What the fuck is this stuff.”

Connor turned around and positively beamed. It was still a little disorienting to see someone who was usually so passive be some emotional, but it was kind of like seeing a puppy learn to wag its tail. 

“Hank!” He said in this happy voice, and Hank realized this probably was the first time Connor ever used his first name. But in his excitement, Connor didn’t even seem to notice. 

“Check this cool stuff out!” 

He held up three Nerf guns. One of them looked like some machine gun, and they all looked expensive. “Need these for me memes,” Connor said, dead serious.

Hank felt immense regret immediately for inviting Connor to stay with him. 

Connor tossed the plastic guns back in and pulled out a plush golden retriever. He held it up, and it dangled from his hands.

“Touch it,” Connor demanded. Hank obliged.

It was like… really soft. 

“It's like touching a cloud…” Connor whispered, rubbing the stuffed animal's ears. Then he pulled out a massive, ugly fucking Christmas sweater, breaking the wholesome moment with the world’s worst piece of clothing, ever.

“Isn’t this cute looking!” He had the audacity to say. Hank felt like he maybe had sinned in a past life to have Connor want to buy a dabbing reindeer sweater, but forced a grin on anyways.

“Looks great, Con!” He forced out. 

Connor chucked both items back into his cart and dug out a plastic lightsaber.

He simply turned it on, mouthed WOOSH while it lit up and pretended to decapitate him. Hank was not amused, so the sword was tossed back into the cart.

Then he pulled out clout goggles. What was this, 2018? 

Hank didn’t even say anything, just gave him the most disappointed look he could manage. Connor already had proven himself as a meme god, but Hank really hoped that he would have gotten like, normal clothes. 

In some sick way, his wish was granted because Connor then decided to pull out two pairs of the weirdest, dumbest socks he had ever seen.

One was just a Saint Bernard’s face over and over again, obviously inspired by Sumo. The other was that fucking circle hand as a pattern. Hank did not understand the depth or the meaning of said pattern.

Hank gently took Connor’s hand in his own. “Back when I was a kid,” he started slowly, “I was also very meme-savvy.”

Connor lit up like the fourth of July. 

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I am not very up to date with the memes.”

Connor’s face fell.

“Please teach me everything you know. I want to be hip with the kids.”

Connor grinned again and shoved the clout goggles onto Hank's face, before turning around and digging into his cart again. Hank barely had time to recover mentally from all the psychic damage the stupid things Connor got before he whipped around again. 

He held out a squirty bottle, looking every bit proud of himself. 

“Uh,” said Hank, intelligently. He gently removed the glasses. “Why?”

Connor had the nerve to look a little self-conscious. “When you said I could stay with you, were you like, serious?”

Hank sighed and patted the kid's hands again. “Yeah kid, ya can live with this old geezer as long as you want to.”

Connor grinned again. “Cool! You’ll not be drinking as much as you used too, because if I see you even try to reach for alcohol and your BAC is over .04 I’ll spray your dumb ass with cold water! Just like that shower, remember, with the Tracis?”

Hank definitely remembered. He had war flashbacks to waking up with a face full of cold water, then immediately puking.

“Hank?”

Oh yes. Hank remembered. He was going to use that stupid spray bottle on Connor every time he tried to lick something he shouldn’t.

Revenge, bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: ya im alive  
> fucking everyone: superb! funky lil android
> 
> hank: ill adopt you come live with me  
> connor: error 
> 
> hank: haha dont talk to me till ive had my morning coffee!  
> connor: i will fucking slit your throat you bitch, that way you wont ever talk to anyone again ever. fuck you
> 
> hank: buy whatever u want  
> connor: wHaTeVeR i WaNt????  
> hank: you can get 10 items
> 
> connor, feeling guilty and paying with his cyberlife card:   
> To: Cybersluts  
> Subject: i need nerf guns for work. helps me assimilate into human culture. 
> 
> connor, holding up a nerf gun: and this is for this super funny video idea i have-  
> hank, who already lived through the gen z culture and is holding onto his sanity by a threat: haha great idea con con!
> 
> connor: haha check out this funny pair of glasses, aint it funny! haha!  
> hank, taking 100 points psychic damage: 
> 
> connor: and now lets curb those destructive habits sweaty!!!  
> hank: i will eat ur kneecaps


End file.
